


The Dead Man's Reunion

by Notmarysue



Category: Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid
Genre: Black Friday, Canon Compliant, Canon Continuation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Light Angst, Mentor/Protégé, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, P.E.I.P, Post-Canon, Reunions, black and white
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27921832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notmarysue/pseuds/Notmarysue
Summary: John is sure that his sacrifice is worth it, but it's hard to keep that in mind when drifting through the black and white. Luckily, he's not entirely alone.
Relationships: Xander Lee/John McNamara (mentioned)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 11





	The Dead Man's Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> Will I ever write a Black Friday fic that doesn't bully John? Who knows?

John wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had entered the black and white. It could have been seconds; it could have been days. There was no way of knowing for sure. He felt like time was passing, that he had been sleeping, but every time he opened his eyes nothing had changed. He was still floating in the darkness. He tried to keep them close. Whether he was awake or not didn’t matter. That’s all there was now. Endless stretching darkness.

He kept trying to remind himself it was for the best. Surely his sacrifice was worth it if it meant Howard Goodman survived. He might not have been the smartest president, he certainly wasn’t the bravest, but he held the power to make decisions. With Xander left behind to guide him, humanity would be led out of disaster, and as long as that happened then his life was a small price to pay. Besides, he’d had a good run, hadn’t he? He’d made a difference. That’s all he’d ever wanted.

Out in the void, John thought he heard footsteps. They were firm and heavy, indicating the walk of someone confident in no particular rush. He willed opened his heavy eyelids and peered out into nothing. Maybe he’d imagined it. He’d heard isolation could do that to a person, make them hallucinate. Then he saw him, as real as anyone can be. The approaching figure of Wilbur Cross, holding a white mug.

“You know, John, I always knew you’d be the one to pull some stupid stunt like this.” Wilbur smiled. “Even when you were a dumb little trainee, I thought to myself ‘now that, that is a man who’s going to try and play hero’.”

In that moment John wanted to say a million things. He wanted to scream and curse at Wilbur for his traitorous actions. He wanted to break down and admit the nagging sense of regret that lurked within him. He wanted to push his former mentor away and be allowed to drift through the ether in peace. But when he finally opened his dry lips to speak, none of these things were what came out.

“Am I dead?” He croaked.

“No, drama queen, you’re not dead.” Wilbur huffed. “Well, not yet at least. Here, drink this. It’s from Webby. Normally I’d tell that bloody spider to fuck off, but I’m told it’ll make you feel better.”

“I’m not taking anything from one of those monsters.” John huffed.

“Oh no, you’ll like Webby. She’s got this whole self-righteousness thing going on. You’ll get along very well.” Wilbur assured him. John rolled his eyes and took the icy ceramic cup from his hands. He looked down at the liquid inside. It swirled in glowing, ever changing colours. Inky blue, grass green, dirty mustard yellow, lavender purple. Within in it all remained a constant whisp of clean, crisp white, rounding the edges like a protective thread. John’s wary gaze met Wilbur’s eyes. Wilbur shrugged, seemingly as unsure as him. John sighed. What choice did have? If he didn’t drink it, then he was sure he would remain in his confused, dehydrated state until he died or lost so much of himself that he may as well be dead. The mysterious liquid offered three possibilities. It killed him, it did nothing, or it saved him. All three were preferable to simply giving up and letting go.

The smooth, sweet liquid slipped down his throat. As it began to take effect, John once again found himself feeling grounded as he regained a clear awareness of his surroundings. It was still dark, but it was no longer solid black. He could see movement, darting figures in the distance. It wasn’t such of a comfort, seeing how outnumbered he was, but the strangers paid him no mind. Either they hadn’t noticed him, or they just didn’t care.

“Better?” Asked Wilbur.

“I think so.” Said John, handing back the cup.

“You see John, I’d never steer you wrong.” He grinned. John raised a doubtful eyebrow. Wilbur rolled his eyes. “Okay, maybe it’s a matter perspective, but I’m always right in the end.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” John grumbled. Did either of them need to sleep now? Was there even a night to begin with? “So…am I _going_ to die?”

“You know what, John? I have absolutely no idea. Believe it or not we don’t have a ton of people running in here without any form of protection. I mean, even I had a suit when I came in here and P.E.I.P were using me as a guinea pig.”

“You knew what you signed up for. We all did. The risks we take, the sacrifices we make, they’re all for the greater good.”

“Who are you telling that too, John? Me or yourself?” Wilbur asked, crossing his arms. “I mean really, what good has P.E.I.P done? Opened a portal, poked a God, kicked the absolute hornet’s nest that is the black and white. The world is messed up enough and we decided to disturb another.”

“It will be worth it. Me being here…is worth it.” John said firmly, trying and failing to hide the shaking twinge of doubt in his voice. He looked into the eyes of the man who had been his mentor, expecting to see annoyance or malice. Instead he found a soft pity. Somehow that stung more.

“You really believe all of that, don’t you? Everything they ever told you.” He sighed.

“I guess you trained me too well.” John smiled sadly.

“Yeah, I guess I did.” Wilbur nodded. “Well, I guess you’re half right. You got your version of ‘the greater good’. Your misguided sacrifice and little Miss Foster’s last-minute reprieve helped stop Wiggly this time around, though it didn’t stop you guys destroying yourselves. When tomorrow comes, none of them will remember any of this. Oh sure, they’ll find themselves drawn to certain people. They’ll find themselves acting a little different, feeling kind of strange. They’ll find that you’re not there. None of them will ever know why. And just like you, none of them will ever truly learn their lesson.”

John gulped. He could justify leaving everyone he knew, leaving Xander, as long as they all knew there was a reason for it. As long they knew he wanted to stay but that there wasn’t a choice. Now what would they think? Would they think he’d just abandoned them? Would Xander presume he’d had enough of it all and left without so much as a goodbye? No, surely not. Xander was a smart man. He would be able to piece together that something had gone wrong.

“I don’t believe everything they told me.” John muttered.

“Really?” Wilbur scoffed.

“I never believed everything they said about you. I could never believe that such a good man could simply be evil. I knew that if I could just talk to you-“

“Then what, John?” Wilbur snapped before softening again. “You’d help me see the light?”

“Maybe if you hadn’t disappeared, maybe then we could have helped you.”

“I never needed help.” He grumbled. “And I didn’t just disappear.”

“Of course you did. It may have been thirteen years ago, but I remember that much.”

“Oh, I left for sure, but think about it, John. Why would I abandon the greatest source of paranormal documentation known to man? Not to mention the equipment you guys had.”

“I…don’t know. You weren’t making a whole lot of sense at the time.”

“Not to you maybe…but to them. No, John, I wasn’t the ‘raving lunatic’ they made me out to be. I knew far more than they wanted. They wanted to me _dead_. So, I found my way to my friends on the other side.”

John paused. He’d always been told Wilbur had attacked the guards and escaped custody in the middle of the night, leaving no trace. He’d not received any further information for almost ten years when people started disappearing from a Hatchetfield theme park. Poor Hatchetfield. That little town just couldn’t catch a break. Had they really lied about that night? What else had they lied about?

“See, John, that’s the one thing you never considered. The people you try to protect are the exact same ones that tear the world apart. The creatures here are like children. The worlds they create are strange and confusing but…harmless. It’s the humans that turn them deadly.”

John scowled and bit the instead of his lip, refusing to reply. Wilbur was a liar. He had to be a liar. He was trying to manipulate him. Then again, what did he have to gain from that? John couldn’t leave the black and white. He couldn’t do anything to help Wilbur’s plans. Maybe he got a buzz from destroying John’s believes. Still, he didn’t seem angry at John’s resistance or pleased by his discomfort. Whether what Wilbur was saying was true or not, he seemed to believe it. It wasn’t a game for him. It was simply facts.

“If it helps, I never hated you.” Wilbur said softly. “I mean, I hated pretty much everything you stood for, but you…I knew you to well for that.”

“So, what happens now?” John mumbled.

“I don’t know. But I figured out what to do with you once. I’m sure I can do it again. Come on, I’ve got some friends I’d like you to meet.”

Wilbur started to walk away. John glanced back behind him. The path he had taken from the portal gone, his connection to Lex and Xander severed. If he had any chance of communicating with the outside world again it lay with the only other human in the realm. His only choice was to once again trust in his mentor. He turned away and jogged after the retreating figure, disappearing into the veil of the black and white, leaving P.E.I.P far behind him.


End file.
